


Phryne Fisher and the Lost City

by resolute



Category: Historical RPF, Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Closeted Character, Colonialism, Gen, Homophobia, Miscarriage, Racist Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 14:25:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resolute/pseuds/resolute
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A broken leg does not prevent Phryne Fisher from solving crimes, even those years ago and on the other side of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phryne Fisher and the Lost City

**Author's Note:**

  * For [staranise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/staranise/gifts).



 

December, 1929

***

Dear Aunt Prudence,

No, of course I am perfectly fine! Aside from one very slightly broken leg. Mac saw to me, and says I shall be back in top form in a month or so.

I shall, of course, take your sage counsel in the spirit it was intended, and will consider your admonitions on any and all future balloonist excursions. Particularly with handsome and inattentive young men.

Affectionately yours,

Phryne

***

To the Hon. Miss Phryne Fisher, St. Kilda, Australia

Mrs. Phillipa Rimell desires the honor of making your acquaintance at the urging of your mutual friend, Mr. Burton. She will call Thursday next, in the a.m..

Respectfully yours,

Mrs. Rimell

***

**OPEN** to the **PUBLIC THREE NIGHTS** consecutively in **MEEKER'S HALL**

**WORLD-TRAVELLER** and **EXPLORER** of **LOST WORLDS**

**MR. GEORGE MILLER DYOTT**

Presents **MOVING PICTURES** of the famed **CANNIBAL TRIBES** of the **AMAZON**.

Mr. Dyott brings to Melbourne the famed account of his SEARCH for the Royal Geographical Society's **PERCY FAWCETT** , lost these three years.

**SEE** the tribe that killed Mr. Fawcett! **HEAR** Mr. Dyott's **PERSONAL** **ACCOUNT** **OF** **DANGER**.

Early booking advised. Reserved and numbered seats to the front and sides. Unreserved and standing in balconies. Sponsored by **MORRIS** **OUTFITTERS** , **LTD**.

***

Detective-Inspector Robinson,

Jack, dear, would you be so kind as to come to tea after work? I've got a tale for you that might lead to a murder conviction, or at least a wrongful death. Does your jurisdiction extend to Brazil? Well, it matters not. We've enough mystery here.

Details over tea. Or a cold beer, the weather has been beastly! And Mr. Butler has a new American electric icebox that works like a charm.

\-- Phryne

***

To my good friend, Mr. Thomas,

Thank you again for the rent of your Queenscliff home this month past! It was a delight, and I truly enjoyed meeting your neighbors. Madame Selavy and the surrealist club were unexpected gems. And do not concern yourself, I beg you, with the kidnapping of your cook and butler. The smugglers were arrested and no-one was harmed.

I write to you today in the hope that you may be able to assist me. I have come to understand that one of your anthropologist colleagues, a Mr. Fredericks, has not been heard from in some time. That, to be perfectly clear, he is presumed dead in the desert. Are you aware that a Mr. Dyott has planned an expedition to locate Mr. Fredericks? What is your opinion of the situation?

I value your expertise, and trust I shall hear from you soon. If you are in Melbourne, please do call.

All my best,

Miss Phryne Fisher

***

Miss Fisher,

It is a pleasure to her from you. I owe you a debt of gratitude for the safe return of my household. And therefore I am only too happy to give you what little information I have regarding Mr. Fredericks and his latest expedition.

Fitzgerald Fredericks is a sound man, good with the Aboriginals. Like all of us, he has his tribes and keeps their exact location secret. That said, I believe he typically goes to the Simpson Desert, into the middle of the harshest lands. When we last spoke, April of this year, I believe, he mentioned a new theory about lineage records and musical artifacts. (He frequently confided in me, as my own area of study is bones, not handicrafts.)

Yet he was concerned. Ranchers nearby – for a desert value of nearby, you understand – had begun to spread stories of petroleum finds. It's all rumor, really. Abos telling of burning water, or demonstrating some sort of oil-based witch-doctor magic, and the ranch hands decide that the desert must be full of petroleum wealth. Pure nonsense. The geology is all wrong for surface oil. But men who work hard for very little dream of working hard for great wealth, and the stories persist.

Fredericks was hoping to persuade his tribes to allow a survey team into the desert to prove that there was no oil anywhere. I don't know how they might have taken it. I doubt he would be met with violence, that's not how the Abos respond. But they might have been offended, stopped helping him. And that could lead to a very chancy situation for an expedition.

As for Mr. Dyott –

Mr. Dyott is a valued member of the Royal Geographic Society, with many contributions to our knowledge of the world. He treats his aides and guides fairly. He shares his findings with all who enquire. Yet I cannot but feel that his explorations are hampered by his insistence on bringing a film camera along, as well as the men to operate same. One might get the sense from the footage with which he returns that Mr. Dyott is more interested in being filmed in front of Palenque than he is in recording Palenque.

That said, his only failure to date is his inability to locate Mr. Percy Fawcett alive and well. And that can hardly be said to be a failure on Dyott's part. I am of the view that Fawcett merely exceeded his ability, at last, and was killed by the jungle he so loved.

Or perhaps he did find the City of Z he spoke of! If so, then no wonder Dyott could not reach him. Dyott is barely half the adventurer Fawcett was. But, then, none of us are. Fawcett stood above us all in greatness.

If I may be of any further assistance to you, Miss Fisher, please do not hesitate to ask.

Yours in friendship,

Mr. Thomas

***

Miss Fisher,

As promised, enclosed are my beloved Raleigh's letters to me from his travels with Mr. Fawcett and Jack Fawcett. I feel I must explain certain references to the secrecy of my marriage to Raleigh. You see, Jack Fawcett and my husband were friends from young childhood. Their bond was the sort that men form, inseparably close. And Jack felt, strongly, that marriage before the expedition would call ill fortune down on their endeavors. That I would be, in short, bad luck for Raleigh and hence bad luck for them all. Yet in the weeks leading to their departure, I found that my betrothed and I must wed as quickly as possible. We did so, in secret from Jack and Mr. Fawcett lest they refuse to allow Raleigh on their voyage.

Much to my distress, it came to pass that the haste of our wedding was abruptly not required. But I have the certificate, and I am Raleigh Rimell's wife.

Thank you again for your understanding and assistance.

Mrs. Rimell

***

My darling Phillipa,

I think I shall not be able to write to you for some time. We depart for the wild jungle tomorrow, early. Mr. Fawcett is intent and frustrated. Well, he is intent on the upcoming trek, and frustrated with his choice of company. I believe Mr. Fawcett regrets the decision to bring Jack and I along.

But Jack is wonderful. He does not argue with his father's peculiarly exact demands, and nothing – not mosquito, nor savage porter, nor lack of tobacco, nor unexpected storm – ruffles his strong, rugged determination. He bends to Mr. Fawcett's will with an honor and purity of spirit that makes Mr. Fawcett seem small and petty.

Perhaps Mr. Fawcett's time has passed. Perhaps it is Jack's hour in the sun. He certainly thinks so. Why, just last night he pulled me close as we walked and confided his plans to me, and me alone. It is a heady joy to be so trusted.

I grieve with you, Phillipa, for the events you wrote of last. When I return we shall, together, put the sad happenings behind us and go forward in new joy. Jack has given me certain pointers on the acts in question, that the resumption of my married life with you may be as pleasant as we hope it to be.

I did not yet tell him we are married, Phillipa. I know this gives you pause, but he is so happy in our friendship, I don't want to ruin his joy on this dangerous expedition.

You may not hear from me for a while, Phillipa. Trust that I am happy, and whole in mind, body, and spirit.

Respectfully yours,

Raleigh

***

Bobby,

I need a very particular eye on these letters, darling. From the enclosed, do you think Jack and Raleigh spoke the unspeakable?

I trust your discretion is absolute as always.

Give my best to the rest of the club,

Phryne

***

Miss Fisher,

Cec has a nephew was just hired as day labor by that Dyott bloke after Dyott's valet quit on account of he wasn't here to carry boxes. Dyott doesn't drink more than most, doesn't have nastier habits, likes the ladies but not too much. And it's women he goes for, not younger. But there's never any money around, not to pay for anything. And there's a trunk, marked "FILM," that no-one is allowed to touch. Cec's nephew's name is Frank, if you need him.

Yours in the Great Struggle,

Bert

***

Miss Fisher

The trunk was full of film in metal cans and this here notebook and an empty box with some green dust in it. Here is an envelope with the dust. And the notebook. Uncle Cec sends his regards.

Frank Nilson

***

_From the journal of Raleigh Rimell:_

Dearest Phillipa,

I write to you despite the knowledge that the events in this journal will be long past by the time I can post it, let alone by the time you read it. Who knows? Perhaps I shall deliver this note and all the others to your hand myself. But keeping this record gives me comfort, as does imagining that you are hearing my words.

And why might I need comfort? Oh, darling. The jungle is savagely difficult. And I could weather the discomforts, the illness and the infestation, with a stout heart, were it not for the change that has come over Mr. Fawcett and Jack. Mr. Fawcett, as you know, is a stern, driven man. That I knew. But I did not expect Jack, my Jack, to hew so closely to his father's line. I imagined, when I imagined it at all, that Jack and I would be as we were on our scrapes and adventures at school or in the field together. This hard young man, while clean and pure in form, has a darkness on his heart that manifests as anger. Anger with me. Oh, at first I laughed it away. I marked it up to discomfort, or the uncertainty. But when the mule I led broke its leg, it was not Mr. Fawcett who struck me. It was Jack.

He is abjectly sorry now, of course. And he made it up to me in our way. But now, as he sleeps, I wonder that it came to blows at all.

Yours,

Raleigh

***

Phryne,

The mineral samples you sent me aren't any sort of drug. It took a while to rule everything else out, but what you have here is powdered jade. Rubbed off the edge of a larger piece, is my guess?

Mac

***

_From the journal of Raleigh Rimell:_

My darling Phillipa,

We are unaccountably near to Z. This last tribe, the Atozi, showed Mr. Fawcett artifacts which he is certain are from the lost city. I hope it is true. I am done with this expedition, and have no way to leave it. I said, oh, it seems years ago now, that I would follow Jack to hell itself. Now I have. I am in hell.

The day before the Atozi, Mr. Fawcett came into possession of certain information, Phillipa, that I cannot fathom a way to tell you. But he, he no longer condones my friendship with his son. And Jack, who swore that he would stand by me forever, has taken his father's side.

I am bereft, Phillipa. I am lost. I am in hell. I have no friend in this trek, nor this jungle, nor, save for you, in the world. My only hope is to do everything exactly as Mr. Fawcett and Jack say, that we might find success and leave.

If we cannot find the city, I will not survive.

\-- Raleigh

***

Dear Miss Fisher,

After some searching, I received word regarding Mr. Fredericks. It seems he did indeed contract for a petroleum survey of the Simpson Desert, but his party was bushwhacked. The remains were found some months ago but misidentified. Local officials have finally gotten the facts straight, and it seems that the survey equipment and results were sold to an outfitting company in Melbourne. Morris Outfitters, Ltd.

Morris Outfitters is currently sponsoring Mr. Dyott's search for Fredericks.

It all smacks of fraud, at the very least. I can give you the week-end, at most, and then we'll go chat with Mr. Dyott.

Respectfully yours,

Jack Robinson

***

_From the journal of Raleigh Rimell:_

Dearest,

I have found a way. I have hidden the jade in our things. When we are away from the Atozi, I will reveal the ornaments to the Fawcetts. Then we can go. There is no Z. The jade is all that remains of a lost world in the jungle. Lost. As I am lost. But we can take the jade and go, I am certain. In another day or so, I will tell them.

\-- R

***

Mr. Dyott,

We have not been introduced. My name is Phryne Fisher. I have in my possession Raleigh Rimell's diary. I commend you on your discretion, but I must fault you on your greed. I know you are a thief but not a murderer. You may call on me tonight for dinner. Bring with you the films you keep hidden, the remaining Atozi jade ornaments, and your entire truthful cooperation. It's your only chance of keeping me on your side.

The Hon. Phryne Fisher

***

_From the journal of Raleigh Rimell:_

My wife –

I cannot keep the truth from you now. You will know when you see me. There is no hope for our marriage. I will grant you an honorable divorce. Mr. Fawcett found Jack in the midst of a reunion with my affections. If you do not understand my meaning, Phillipa, I cannot explain. But Mr. Fawcett's rage was that of an angry god. He struck me with such vindictive anger that I have been terribly wounded. I expect I will never make a husband to anyone, ever.

Mr. Fawcett sent Jack alone into the jungle. I do not know if I will ever see him again.

\-- R

***

Mrs. Rimell,

At the behest of a mutual acquaintance, Miss Fisher, I write to you the circumstances of your husband Mr. Rimell's death.

Yes, I did find the remains of the Fawcett expedition. Mr. Percy Fawcett and Mr. Rimell were found dead together in a small encampment near the Atozi tribal lands. Mr. Jack Fawcett, I was told by the Atozi, lay dead elsewhere in the jungle. I found documents, specifically your husband's journal, that gave credence to the natives' claim.

Mrs. Rimell, I am guilty of many things. I am a grandstander, I bend the truth for the sake of the story. And I have stolen, from you. But I did not cause in any manner the death of your husband.

Mr. Percy Fawcett killed Mr. Rimell, and by neglect caused the death of his own son, Jack Fawcett, having caught the two in unnatural acts. The circumstances of the death, and the evidence in the journal, provoked me to hide the truth for the sake of the Fawcett family, the Royal Geographical Society, and Mr. Rimell's family.

I could have made another decision, and it may have brought you peace of mind. I don't think so, but Miss Fisher insists that you be given the chance. Enclosed is Raleigh Rimell's journal. If you have any questions, I beg you to take them up with Miss Fisher.

Your servant,

George Miller Dyott

***

Mrs. Rimell,

I told you when we began that you may not like the answers I found for you. I am afraid that this is what has come to pass.

If you want to discuss your new knowledge, please come to call at your convenience. I will be at home to you.

It is with sincere sympathy that I am your servant in this matter.

Phryne Fisher

***

 

 


End file.
